


But Not Helicopters

by twizzle



Category: Doctor Who, Horrible Histories
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:03:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twizzle/pseuds/twizzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob Hale meets the eleventh Doctor</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Not Helicopters

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered about what it would be like if The Doctor met Bob Hale. Because they're both fantastically flaily and wordy, so what would they be like doing that to each other? I nearly prompted it then my Muse claimed it for her own... and so appears this fic!

  


  
Bob frowned at the big blue box in the middle of the shopping centre. No-one else seemed to have noticed it and were simply walking past as if it had always been there. But Bob knew it hadn’t – oh no, good old Bobsy paid attention to his surroundings. Especially when they changed suddenly to include a big blue box.

He walked up to it cautiously – a stealth tactic he never usually employed – and made his way around it, frowning at it. It _certainly_ had not been there the last time he had been shopping, and people weren’t walking through it so he wasn’t imagining it. Reaching out a hand to touch it, Bob nodded as it contacted the very solid wood he had expected.

“How can you see her?”

Bob spun on the spot, starting as he realised _just_ how close to him the man who had spoken was standing. It was the man in the tweed jacket and messy hair he’d seen crawling about on the floor earlier. Bob had noticed that – he was good at noticing things.

“Obvious, really.” Bob replied. “Big blue box suddenly appears in the middle of the floor and nobody notices it, right? WRONG! Good old Bobsy notices it and realises something isn’t quite right and wonders why all these people are ignoring it. Must be something special; I’ve seen quite a few special things in my time like Romans and palaces and aliens and Victorian children and sparkly underwear – but not aliens because they usually turn out to be diseases and we don’t cover the future - and my rather fetching tie. Do you like it?”

“I prefer bowties if I’m honest, but my previous self had a weakness for ties.” The man grinned at him, his hand reaching up to adjust the red bowtie at his neck.

“I’m the Doctor by the way.” The man – the Doctor – said, holding out his hand for Bob to shake.

“Nice to meet you!” Bob shook his hand thoroughly. “Bob Hale.”

“Can I call you Bobsy? You called yourself Bobsy and it seemed like a rather good nickname-“

“Of course.” Bob replied. After all, if he was going to find out why this strange man who liked bowties could see the blue box it would do well to be familiar. “And I call you what?”

“Doctor.”

“Just Doctor?”

“Just Doctor.”

“Not Doc or Doccy or Mr Doctor Man or what about a real name?”

Bob frowned to himself, realising his mouth had run away with himself again. Most people would be cross with him now and would tell him to bog off or go away or-

…The Doctor was laughing. That was a new reaction.

“Oh you’re wonderful!” The Doctor grinned at him and slapped him on the back, causing Bob to go rather wide-eyed and spluttery. He wasn’t laughing _at_ him. The Doctor found him entertaining. Bobsy, entertaining! He always knew he had it in him, no matter how much Sam and Mike protested against his reports and didn’t laugh at his jokes. This Doctor Man seemed blessed with better sense than his colleagues.

“Why is everyone ignoring it?” Bob asked, gesturing at the box.

“Because she’s got a perception filter.” The Doctor replied. Bob nodded. That sounded reasonable. He wasn’t sure what one of those was but he was sure it would be easy to figure out if he put his mind to it. But he didn’t have time for that now because the box made a loud bang that made both he and the Doctor jump.

They then found themselves at the centre of attention as all the people around them suddenly noticed them.

“But not for long!” Bob yelled, whirling to grin at the Doctor. “I think your perception something-or-other is broken.”

The Doctor was frowning, pointing a small glowing stick at the box. Bob watched the green buzzy thing, looking back and forth between it and the Doctor.

Then the Doctor pointed it at him.

“Woah, careful there!” Bob held up his hands in front of him, fending off the buzzy stick with limbs flailing.

“It’s you.” The Doctor said, still frowning. “You broke my TARDIS.”

“I don’t even know what a TARDIS is, how could I break it?” Bob protested. “I know what NATO and PIN numbers and CD-ROMs are but I’ve never heard of a TARDIS-“

The green buzzy light stick thing continued to be waved at him.

“Interesting.” The Doctor muttered. “You register as a mix of human, time energy, something _ancient_ that I don’t recognise-“

“And helicopters?”

“No, not helicopters.” The Doctor frowned at him. “Why would you register as part helicopter?”

Bob shrugged.

“Lucky guess? But not exactly a lucky guess as it was wrong…” Bob flapped his hands at the Doctor. “Never mind. Can you stop pointing that thing at me now?”

With a flick of his hand the buzzing and glowing stopped then he squirreled the device away in his jacket pocket.

“Come with me.” The Doctor told him, before grabbing Bob by his sleeve, clicking his fingers, and dashing into the box as the doors opened for them.

With instructions to lock the door behind him so no-one else could get in while the Doctor fixed the perception filter, Bob was left just inside the front door with his mouth gaping at the sight that greeted him.

“You’ve gone mad this time Bobsy.” He said to himself. “Definitely. Raving, stark, bonkers mad like George the Third – although if this is what George the Third could see no wonder he had such a good time of it – must watch out for potted plants, and still wouldn’t want a historical doctor though. OH!” At that epiphany he ran up the steps to the console and grabbed the Doctor’s attention as he slammed into a lever and a couple of buttons, causing the TARDIS to lurch sideways and make a loud noise of protest.

“CAREFUL!” The Doctor yelled, hands fluttering above the console. “Sorry old girl, he doesn’t know what he’s doing – he didn’t mean it. Did you Bobsy?”

“Err-no.” Bob replied, watching incredulously as the Doctor stroked the thing tenderly like most people would a beloved pet.

Bob dithered. He wasn’t known for dithering, but he had far too many questions running through his head to even put a voice to them. But Bobsy? Stuck for words? Not for long!

“So what is this? Where are we? Why is the box so big and not a box? Am I mad? Mad like George the Third and Caligula and a banana – but not a banana because despite their appearances they’re not actually mad – and are you here to help me? I mean, I should have noticed I was going mad because I’m the sort of chap who notices things and has very good observational skills… or so I thought! And you, you’re a doctor – you say you’re a doctor – and I don’t even notice! So what time are you from? Are you going to put radishes in my ears – YUCK! Or rub soot on my belly – YUCK! Or make me pee whilst doing a handstand – YUCK! Or something else equally as ridiculous? That’s what they do – except not exactly what they do because they do real cures, well, they think they’re real cures but mostly just work this much: not at all! Although you definitely seem more advanced than most of the doctors from other eras, so your methods might be even stranger, but the historical doctors usually have names or at least something to call them…”

He trailed off as he realised the Doctor was simply staring at him. He wasn’t trying to interrupt. Wasn’t trying to stop him. Wasn’t trying to calm him down or make him shut up. He was simply staring at him.

“In all my lives, I’ve never met someone who talks _quite_ as much as you. I don’t even think _I_ talk that much and I’ve been told both this and my last regeneration have been rather verbose…”

Bob wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. Or what the man meant by ‘in all my _lives_ ’…a slip of the tongue, surely? Unless-

“You’re not human, are you?” Bob asked. “Earlier, you said I registered as human and ancient time something but not helicopters- but you don’t usually have to work out that someone’s human when you bump into them when out shopping, unless you’re shopping on a distant planet with your eyes closed with lots of alien friends which I don’t do but might be a normal Saturday morning for you.”

“I’m a Time Lord.” The Doctor replied with an amused smile.

“Oh, WOW! Fantastic Bobsy, well done – you’ve bagged yourself a Time Lord! No idea what they are but it _does_ sound impressive – or at least it does if it’s a Lord like a Duke or a Lady rather than a Lord like a politician – you’re not a politician, are you? No, of course not – you’re a doctor from the future with a glowing stick and a big blue box that’s bigger on the inside-“

“It’s called a sonic screwdriver and she’s called a TARDIS.”

“So nothing like a CD-ROM then? That makes more sense, you can’t stand in a CD-ROM although they _are_ rather spacious, did you know they hold a lot of information? I thought of releasing my book on CD-ROM but people don’t seem to use them much nowadays...”

Bob nodded, satisfied for the moment, before realising he was standing in a TARDIS (not that that helped) with an alien (not a disease or a plague or germ – a real alien! Score one to Bobsy, done better than the Incans with their fake aliens in the forms of Spaniards and smallpox) who was some sort of lord and medical professional but really, he had no idea what had happened, who this man was, or where he was.

“Can you hold this?” The Doctor asked him, looking slightly strained as he kept a lever pulled down. “Luckily you only collided with the basic navigational controls – and managed to release her breaks, I’m not sure how you did that – so I just need to you keep hold of that to stabilise us while I set in new coordinates.”

Bob nodded and did as he was asked, his eyes roaming over the various colourful objects embedded in the console.

“So is this a ship of some sort?” Bob asked, reaching out to twirl a spinny thing.

“She’s more than just a ship.” The Doctor looked up at him with a face-splitting grin, pride shining in his eyes as he paused in his corrections. “She can take me anywhere in time and space – well, there are limits but you don’t need to know them as I know them _far_ too well, you’re definitely not going to be travelling with me, and humans tend not to grasp the intricacies of time travel – although you _do_ have an element of time energy in you, everyone who works in close proximity to the time sewers absorbs some energy from them – but that doesn’t mean you would understand so why am I talking about this to you?”

He paused and sighed, his focus returning to the TARDIS.

“She always takes me where I need to go and always knows where I need to be.”

“Is that why you were in the shopping centre? I saw you crawling around on the floor with your screwdriver in your mouth, you must have been there for a reason – and I’m not sure how you kept your trousers so clean because if I’d been crawling around I’d be covered in dust and hair and dirt and mud and ash and all other unmentionable kinds of things-“

“You’re right, I hadn’t planned to go shopping today – I also hadn’t planned on picking up a visitor.”

“I’m a visitor?” Bob asked, beaming at the Doctor.

“Well you’re not my partner or a companion.”

“No, that sounds too serious and I have far more important things to do than be your consort.”

The Doctor blinked at him and opened his mouth to correct Bob as he had the wrong idea but the man cut him off before he could start.

“In that case, being a visitor, can I get a tour? That’s what usually happens when you visit people! Not that I’ve visited many people, but I’m told that from reliable sources.”

The Doctor sighed.

“I’d rather just take you back to where you belong and limit your time here.” He replied. “It’s nothing against you Bobsy – you’re definitely entertaining and you know your history – but it’s better if I travel on my own.” The Doctor frowned, his face haunted for a moment as he thought of the companions he had lost, and the hollow feeling left where his most recent had been before he had pushed them away. “Although we caused a bit of a commotion in the shopping centre when you deactivated the perception filter-“

“How did I do that? You blamed me but I don’t know how I could have done that – everyone tries to blame me for things that are _definitely_ not my fault – the power going out in the studio, getting stuck in a loop during the crusades report, breaking that bureau that Sam bought at the auction – she even blamed me for that too, said we shouldn’t be holding auctions in the studio-“

“Shh.” The Doctor put his finger to his lips.

“Don’t shush me!” Bob replied. “I can’t be shushed! You could have asked me politely to be quiet and I’d have zipped it, shut up, stopped talking, ceased-“

“Bobsy.” The Doctor interrupted. “It’s because of your work. From being in such close proximity to the time sewers for extended periods you had a build-up of time energy in your system but nowhere for it to release to – you only have access to the entrance of the sewers and if you’re exposed to something like that, you really should make an effort to visit one of the other time related phenomena to discharge the energy – there’s a rift in Cardiff, and a couple of cracks above Glasgow. Your build-up discharged when you found my TARDIS as the energy identified another time-travelling entity and this old girl – the sexy, sexy thing – absorbed it from you to bring it to safe levels so you didn’t discharge violently in my presence.”

“Sounds messy.”

The Doctor gave him an exasperated look. Bob had been advised of the possibility of side-effects from working with the time sewers but this had definitely _not_ been in the employees handbook. He’d have to have a word with the producers and book a holiday. He was sure Sam would be happy to go with him – she hadn’t discharged yet, and if he could convince her how dangerous all that time stuff inside her was he was _sure_ she would come with him. Not that he was sure it was actually dangerous to them, only this Doctor Man seemed to be in peril – and how did he know so much anyway? Nevermind, he could think on that later. This time energy would be an excuse to get Sam all to himself for an extended period. They could have a wonderful holiday together in Scotland or Wales with hiking and shopping and sheep shearing and romantic meals and fishing but not romantic meals because Sam wouldn’t like that – as much as he asks her she never goes to dinner with him, so she must like other things for dates instead; she didn’t want to go to the Maldives so must like cold rainy places with beeches rather than hot sunny places with beaches…

As the Doctor continued to fiddle with buttons and spin things that went clunk Bob stared at the console, mulling over the potential of having a spaceship and time machine combo, even if he didn’t have it for long. If this ship could take them anywhere he wanted to go, in any time – he knew _exactly_ where he wanted to go. Plus, if this Doctor Man could achieve it, it would prove he’s not mad after all and this really _is_ real rather than just an elaborate dream brought on from his reaction to that feta cheese he ate by accident the day before. All he had to do was convince him, and to do that he would need a plan that would break his cunning plan’o’meter with its successfulness.

  
 ~~\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

  
“Mike Peabody, reporting for HHTV News live from-“

A grinding whirr sounded through the air, hissing and wheezing and filling the room with noise. Mike and the camera crew watched, confused, as the TARDIS materialised in front of them.

“Mike my man!” Bob yelled as he bounded out of the TARDIS. “I bet you weren’t expecting to see me here, what with everything being historical and old and not futuristic at all – but not for long! Because here’s Bobsy with a spaceship and his very own alien! Who, I must say, has a terribly fantastic way of explaining things and a penchance for rather fetching bowties.”

The Doctor stepped out of the door after him, his hands clasped behind his back as he paused and rocked on the balls of his feet. He didn’t want to get too close to Bob’s co-workers – where he was would be safe enough from energy discharges as long as Mike and the camera crew didn’t approach him.

Bob gestured back excitedly to where the Doctor was beaming at them.

“I don’t understand.” Mike stated.

“It’s quite simple really Mike!” The Doctor said. “My good friend Bobsy here bumped into my TARDIS when he was out shopping and I thought I’d show him around a bit, but he insisted on coming to see you. Thought it might be impressive to appear out of thin air in a time-travelling spaceship.”

Mike gawped at the two men stood in front of the blue box.

“How is that simple?” He squeaked, his voice taking on a _much_ higher pitch than Bob had ever heard come out of him before.

“Oh Mike, he’s not going to go into the intricacies with someone who wouldn’t understand.” Bob said. He turned and shook the Doctor’s hand, thanking him for the favour. He had already informed him that he could get back to his own time through the time sewers with his Mike and the camera crew, so it wouldn’t take much of the Doctor’s time.

Bob was still reeling from the phenomenal success of his cunning plan; The Doctor had agreed because of how desperate Bob was to impress his co-workers and the fact that Bob insisted he wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t stark raving mad if he didn’t. Plus, it was much easier to land in this room than trying not to land on someone in the shopping centre – especially after Bob had insisted on fiddling with switches that he shouldn’t.

The Doctor gave a wave and flashed a grin to the camera before he got back in his TARDIS, and the screeching wheeze started up once more to accompany the disappearance of the box.

“Uhm-“ Mike started, at a loss for words before Bob snatched the microphone from him.

“This is Bob Hale, handing back to Sam in the studio!”

  



End file.
